


The Beat of my Heart

by beepbeepbitchard



Category: Coco (2017), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coco AU, M/M, basically the plot of coco from hector’s perspective, bill is de la cruz, eddie is ismelda, richie dies which is central to the plot but he’ll still be there so i’m not tagging it, richie is hector, their daughter is still coco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beepbeepbitchard/pseuds/beepbeepbitchard
Summary: After years of dreaming, Richie Tozier leaves his husband, Eddie, and their infant daughter, Coco, to play for the world with his best friend Bill Denbrough. But the same night he plans to go back home, Richie dies mysteriously, and wakes up the next day in the Land of the Dead. Left off of his family’s ofrenda, he’s never been able to visit on Día de Muertos, but with the help of an aspiring young musician in search of his great-great-grandfather’s blessing, he might just find his way back before it’s too late.aka the Coco au nobody asked for





	The Beat of my Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohylia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohylia/gifts).



> i’m trying something a little different—in keeping with the theme, all of the dialogue is in spanish! spanish is not my first language so i need to give a huge shoutout to @njess04 on tumblr for helping with it!!
> 
> (btw, this is not the only chapter, but i can’t figure out how to make it say anything else)

“Richie, no puedes ir, por favor no hagas esto, mi amor,” Eddie pleaded, grabbing onto his husband’s sleeve. Richie turned, looking at him with something akin to pity. 

 

“Imagina lo qué esto significaría para nosotros, mi cariño,” he answered smoothly, stroking Eddie’s face. “Riquezas increíbles, más de las que puedes imaginar. Podré proporcionar para ti—para ambos.” Richie said pointedly, drawing his husband’s attention to the bed in the next room. 

 

Eddie shook his head. “No  _ quiero _ riquezas. Yo solamente quiero a ti,” he insisted, tears spilling out of his eyes. He raised himself up on his tiptoes, knocking that stupid guitar case away from Richie’s side when he kissed him. Richie kissed back at first, but had to pull away. 

 

His face was soft and sad as he whispered, “Este es mi sueño. Tienes que entender eso. Bill y yo lo hemos soñando por años. Yo regresaré. Lo juro.” Richie set his guitar down before going into their daughter’s bedroom and kneeling next to the bed. His voice cracked with unshed tears as he softly sang.

 

_ Recuérdame, hoy me tengo que ir mi amor _

_ Recuérdame, no llores por favor _

_ Te llevo en mi corazón y cerca me tendrás _

_ A solas yo te cantaré soñando en regresar _

 

_ Recuérdame, aunque tenga que emigrar _

_ Recuérdame, si mi guitarra oyes llorar _

_ Ella con su triste canto te acompañará  _

_ Hasta que en mis brazos tú estés… _

_ Recuérdame.  _

 

The song was to Eddie as much as it was to Coco, but he couldn’t face him any longer. It was already so difficult to leave them, and Richie almost didn’t think he could go. Almost. 

 

“Papá!” Coco said delightedly, clapping her hands together when he was done. She was so little, too little to know what was going on. Too young to realize her papá was going away for a long, long time. 

 

Richie had tears in his eyes when he stood up, tousling his daughter’s perfect braids. It was a habit of his that never failed to make Eddie roll his eyes. And if that spurred him on more? Well, he wouldn’t admit it. “Te quiero, Coco,” he whispered, kissing her on the forehead and closing the bedroom door as he exited. 

 

He stood up, brushing off his jacket; he’d bought it new for the occasion. White satin, embroidered with gold thread. It was expensive, much more expensive than he could afford, but he convinced himself that he’d earn it all back in no time. Richie and his best friend, Bill, were going to play for the world. They would earn millions, gaining fame and becoming the most well-loved musicians in history. He couldn’t wait. 

 

“Yo regresaré,” Richie repeated as he picked his guitar back up. His matched Bill’s—they both had skulls painted on the head, accented with a gold tooth that matched their suits. Eddie complained when he brought it home, saying he’d ruined a perfectly good guitar. He’d just laughed; that guitar was his dearest love. After Eddie and Coco, of course. “Regresaré.”

 

Eddie nodded, rushing to him and hugging him tightly. “¿Lo juras?” 

 

“Lo juro,” Richie repeated, hand over his heart. “Te amo, Eddie,” he whispered, kissing him tenderly. 

 

Eddie clung to him, not wanting to let him go. “No tienes que hacer esto,” he pleaded, offering his husband one last escape. 

 

“Pero yo haré, mi cariño,” Richie said softly, giving him one last kiss. This one was deeper, more desperate, almost as if he thought he wouldn’t be coming back. He held the other man close for a moment more before he was straightening up, shouldering his guitar. “¿Recuérdame, sí _? _ ” he said in that low voice of his, taking up the whole doorway with his lanky frame. 

 

Eddie nodded, tears still streaming down his face. “Y no me olvides _. _ ” 

 

“Nunca, mi amor,” Richie promised, giving him one last smile before he and his guitar disappeared out the door.

 

As if by magic, Bill appeared from where Richie just left, and Eddie rushed to him. “¿Serás bueno con él, verdad?” he pleaded, grabbing onto Bill’s arm. “Cuida que no se meta en problemas.”

 

Bill smiled down at him, his blue eyes glinting like ice in the dusky sunlight despite the sweltering heat. His lips stretched into an imitation of a smile. “Lo haré.”

“¿Lo pue-puedes creer?” Bill crowed. His stutter didn’t erase his excitement as he upended his suitcase onto their single bed. What seemed like thousands of gold coins spilled out and he ran his hands through the piles greedily. “Este es p-p-por ti, Richie. Con t-tus canciones hice esto.” His eyes were bright, reflecting the shine of the gold. 

 

Richie tried to smile, but he couldn’t bring one to his face. They’d been on the road for months; Richie would write the songs and Bill would perform them to an adoring audience each night. They barely got a break, but they got plenty of money, which Bill said made it more than worth it. Richie didn’t know why they were still sharing a bed in a rickety motel if they really made so much money, but that was the least of his problems. 

 

He missed Eddie. And he missed their gorgeous daughter. It was killing him to be apart from them for so long, but he’d tried to not let Bill know. After all, this was their dream. They’d planned it for almost as long as they’d known each other. Playing for the world, earning all this money...by all means, Richie should’ve been happy. And still, he felt empty without his little family. 

 

Richie cleared his throat, making Bill look up from counting coins. “Bill, tengo algo decirte…”

 

“¿S-sí?” Bill looked concerned, and he began scooping the money back into his suitcase. “Habla,” he prompted when Richie didn’t continue. 

 

Richie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bill, mi mejor amigo, me temo que...me temo que es tiempo de que parta. No puedo estar lejos de mi familia por más tiempo.” He held his breath. 

 

His friend didn’t respond right away, which frightened him. Bill’s face gave no indication as to what he was thinking, so Richie had no idea what to expect when he opened his mouth. “Al m-menos tengamos una última b-b-bebida, por un d-despedida, ¿sí?” is what he eventually responded with. 

 

The taller man’s face broke into a relieved smile. Bill wasn’t angry. He understood. He was even offering him a drink. Richie nodded, still grinning, and turned to pack up his suitcase. His leather-bound songbook was the first thing to be packed. He’d been writing in it for as long as he could remember—dozens of other songs dating from when he was a teenager to now. It held a special spot in his heart, and a special spot in his suitcase; it was tucked into a compartment that only he had the key to. Bill knew about the key but didn’t have one. Richie trusted him enough to share some of the songs, but not enough to give him a key of his own. His songs were only shared with Bill if he wanted them to be— _ Recuérdame _ for Coco and  _ Un Poco Loco _ for Eddie were among others that Richie didn’t want just anyone singing. Those were for him and his family. 

 

Bill went to the bar and methodically poured out two shots of tequila, his back facing Richie. He turned towards him, offering one out. Richie took it with a smile, raising it in a toast, but Bill was the one to speak. 

 

“Movería paraíso y tierra para ti, mi amigo. ¡Salud!” 

 

“¡Salud!” Richie echoed, and they clinked glasses before throwing back the shots. He pulled Bill into a hug and clapped his back. “Te deseo la mejor de suerte,” he told him, although it was slightly muffled by the white satin of Bill’s suit. When he pulled back, he was met with a grimace that Bill was clearly trying to pull off as a smile. “Ah, venga, mi amigo, ¿quieres caminar conmigo a la estación de tren?” 

 

Bill nodded, gesturing for Richie to go in front of him. He grinned and closed the clasps on his suitcase before going out the door. “Ah, ¡huele ese aire fresco, Bill! ¡Esto es lo que significa estar vivo!” Richie laughed, just standing there for a moment under the moonlight, taking in the night. The breeze through the trees, the stars shining brightly, the familiar weight of the suitcase in his hand, his best friend by his side. The only things missing were Eddie and Coco, and he’d be with them soon. He couldn’t wait. 

 

The pair kept up light chatter on the way to the train station, although Richie noticed Bill was quieter than normal. He chalked it up to him leaving and left it alone. 

 

They were almost at the station when, rather abruptly, Richie stumbled, dropping his suitcase on the ground. “Mi amigo, ¿estás bien?” Bill asked, grabbing onto his arm to keep him steady.

 

Richie waved him off, but his vision was getting spotty, and his legs collapsed underneath him. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He scrabbled at Bill’s jacket, trying to find purchase as his breathing became weaker. “Tal vez fue el chorizo,” Bill suggested, and Richie’s mind flashed to the decadent dinner they’d had earlier that night. He’d declared it fit for the gods, but Richie didn’t think the gods would become faint on chorizo. Except he wasn’t just becoming faint—he could feel his life draining away. 

 

“Bill—” he wheezed, grabbing his friend’s lapel. “Dile a Eddie que vuelvo a casa.” Bill said nothing, just looked at him with a tranquil smile. It didn’t take much longer before Richie’s pleading look soon became blank, and his grip loosened on Bill’s jacket. 

 

“Adios, mi amigo.” Bill tugged Richie’s collar down to reveal the golden key on a thin chain around his neck. He smiled, not hesitating before he ripped the chain off. Richie’s suitcase still lay in the dust, popped open from the abrupt drop. Bill stood up, striding over to it, and dug through the clothes until he found a thin box at the very bottom. His lips curled up into a smug smile as he pulled it out, unlocking it with the small key. Bill quickly snatched the tattered notebook that lay inside. Then, he walked away, leaving the empty box next to Richie’s lifeless body. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3 
> 
> if you liked this, hop over to my tumblr at chaotickaspbrak! like, reblog, kudos, and comment!
> 
> drop a comment or an ask if you’d like to be on the tag list!


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